


no use leading with our chins

by reindeerjumper



Category: Miss Fisher and the Crypt of Tears (2020), Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Apologies, F/M, Idiots in Love, Spoilers, with a side of smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper
Summary: CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR CRYPT OF TEARSphryne shows up at jack’s hostel, and jack takes his second chance.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 29
Kudos: 161





	no use leading with our chins

**Author's Note:**

> once again, this is a CoT fic, so if you don’t want to be spoiled, turn back now!
> 
> that being said, for me the movie was a rollercoaster. low moments of, “REALLY?” and painstakingly high moments of, “YES THIS EXACTLY!” i’m still on the fence of some of the choices made, but all of that is eclipsed by seeing these two dummies together again. 
> 
> come flail with me on tumblr! @fitzawkwarddarcy

The soft knock on the door of his hostel was enough to startle him, but he willed his heart to slow down when he realized who it was. Of course it was Phryne. Out of principle, he didn’t answer. He should have known she’d come.

“Jack?” 

His name came softly through the door, and Jack allowed himself to gaze upon the silhouette of her face through the glass pane. He could see the perfect slope of her nose, the tantalizing lines of her mouth. He pulled the blanket more tightly around himself.

“Jack? Are you awake?”

He refused to give her the upper hand. She hadn’t come after him at the estate, why had she felt the need to now? 

“No,” he replied, settling back down onto the pillow.

Jack could hear the small huff of exasperation on the other side of the door, and he could practically hear her rolling her eyes. He felt some satisfaction at knowing that, for once,  _ he _ was the one making things difficult for  _ her. _

“I need you,” she whispered through the door, and he could see the flat of her palm press against the glass. Deep down, Jack wanted to believe that her statement meant more than just a favor, that she really  _ needed _ him, but his hope had been shattered when he had watched her kiss Jonathan on the lawn. Her marriage to the Maharajah was a different story entirely. 

He pulled back the thin cover and swung his feet onto the ground. Bracing himself against the mattress, he listened to Phryne as she started to talk. The sound of her voice--very much real, very much here--made a lump form in his throat, but he swallowed thickly around it to avoid the emotion it would inevitably cause. He had cried enough in the past six weeks.

Without realizing what he was doing, Jack stood up and crept across the floor of the room. The floorboards were cold against his bare feet, a blunt reminder of the drafty, dark place he was staying in. Her gravitational pull on him was unending, the center of his universe that constantly called him back. There was now only a thin wooden door separating them, and Jack brought his hand up to where Phryne’s rested on the other side. He smiled at the size of his hand against hers, the black shadow of his fingers blocking out the silhouette of hers. 

She was still rambling, talking about adventures and Bedouin tribes. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine the distant look in her eye that she often got when she became consumed by an idea. Unwillingly, the smile on his lips tugged upward once more. 

His reverie was cut short when her voice cut off. All he could see now was her silhouette, and the hand he had been yearning to hold dropped away from the glass. 

“Damn it, Jack! How can you come all this way to commemorate me, and then refuse to speak to me?” 

Those words cut through him. Yes, he had come to commemorate her. He had come to commemorate many things, like the what-ifs, and the maybe-whens. Not many men got second chances, but Jack Robinson had been given a beautiful one. It had flown over his head in a yellow bi-plane, a beautiful, porcelain face framed by a pilot’s cap. 

Jack watched in halting desperation as the silhouette of Phryne Fisher started to melt away, and he realized that he needed to take the chance he was given. Gently, he pushed the door open and listened to it creak on its hinges as it swung out. Phryne was almost to the top of the stairs when she heard it, and he watched nervously as she stopped. He daren’t breathe as she slowly turned around, and he couldn’t help the leap in his chest as she locked eyes with him.

“Jack,” she said softly, and that damned lump in his throat threatened to unleash a flood of tears again. “You aren’t wearing any pants.”

At this, Jack looked down at himself and shook his head with a fond smile. He had forgotten that he was only wearing a thin undershirt and a pair of striped boxers. With a self-conscious shift of his feet, he looked back up at her and felt his stomach fall through the floor. 

All of the emotions that he had hoped to see on her face after she had dismounted from the plane were now clearly etched on her features. She, too, looked on the verge of tears, and Jack noticed her fiddling with her hands. It was rare to see Phryne Fisher so undone, so unsure of herself. 

“I was mad,” he said. 

“I’m aware,” she replied softly. 

“I was mad at myself for not following you quickly enough. I was mad when I heard that you’d married...mad at you for lying to me about what you wanted from a relationship. I-I was mad that I hadn’t said things sooner.” He stopped here, unsure what to do. He wanted to cross the space between them, scoop her up into his arms, kiss her blind.

“Jack.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. 

“I was mad that you didn’t notice me first when you got off the plane,” he went on. His voice was just a low rumble at this point, and he couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m mad at how utterly flippant you were when you got off that blasted plane, and I’m still mad, quite frankly.” Here, he finally looked up, catching the sparkling blue of her eyes as the dim lamplight caught the tears threatening to spill over her eyelashes. “But I’m so damn happy, too.”

That was all it took. Those six words and the earnest look on his face earned Jack an armful of Phryne Fisher as she launched herself at him. He caught her, barely registering what was happening as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. 

“Oh, Jack,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

He could feel her breath on his skin, smell the French perfume in her hair. He couldn’t decipher whose heartbeat was thumping against his breastbone, and he marveled at how little space there was between them. 

“I’m sorry, too,” he murmured into her hair. 

She continued to cling to him, the warm weight of her in his arms the only thing he could focus on. He closed his eyes, squeezing her just a little tighter. 

Suddenly, a sound interrupted his reverie, and he looked over Phryne’s head to see one of the other hostel tenants staring at him with wide eyes and a disapproving grimace on his lips. 

Phryne untucked her face from his neck and looked behind her to see what had grabbed Jack’s attention. She let out a hearty guffaw before turning back to Jack. 

“We must look a sight,” she whispered. Jack looked down between them, the lilac wool of her dress garishly clashing with the indecency of his smalls. He couldn’t stop the blush from coloring his cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “Nothing to see here, sir,” he heard Phryne say to the man, and for once, Jack was thankful for her quick tongue and self-assertion. 

The man gave them one more disapproving look before shuffling towards the staircase, and Phryne laughed again. She looked back up at Jack, her eyes shining with mischief. 

“Invite me in, Jack? We have a lot to catch up on.”

“Maybe after we go after this mad man you were telling me about.” 

For a split second, disappointment flashed across Phryne’s face before she realized the whole reason she had shown up on his doorstep. She even had the gall to pout at him, and Jack felt like he was going to burst into tears again. 

Instead, he leaned forward and kissed the petulance from her lips. Every kiss up until now was rushed, frantic, and Jack allowed himself to savor the soft feeling of her against him. Her lips tasted like lipstick and the wine she had with dinner, and he hungrily kissed her for more. He brought a hand up to cup her jawline, the pad of his thumb barely ghosting over the immaculate skin on her cheek. Phryne kissed him back, fisting the thin material of his undershirt in her hands. 

When they broke apart, Phryne looked debauched, breathless and awestruck as she panted into the cool London air. 

“I never thought I’d be able to do that again,” Jack said, the reality of his statement crashing around him as the words slipped from between his lips. 

“Well, luckily for you, Inspector, there’s plenty more where that came from.” Phryne paused, her glorious smile creasing her face as she tilted her head. “That is,  _ after _ you help me solve this case.”

Jack huffed a laugh, too enamored to even be annoyed. 

“Come in while I put on my trousers. We’ve got a madman to catch.”

Phryne smiled even wider, lacing her fingers with his as she let herself be led over the threshold and back into his spartan quarters. 

“I knew you’d say that,” she gloated. 

“Enough, Miss Fisher.” 

With that, the door clicked shut behind them. 

**Author's Note:**

> i’m considering making a series of these, where all of the kissing and declarations could’ve happened a LOT earlier than they did. hopefully you guys can get onboard with that ;)


End file.
